


Where Do I Go Now?

by SilverDrake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDrake/pseuds/SilverDrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They say the angel cries in silence every night as he stands vigil over humanity."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Do I Go Now?

The first thing that became real in his sight was the bench.  
Not just one bench, of course. That one particular bench, the one where he had asked his Father for answers. The one where he had reconsidered his whole existence, only to be met by a wall of silence. The silence that made him rise and fall like nobody before him.  
"No, it wasn't anybody's fault but yours," he told himself.  
He smiled bitterly. If there was one thing that angels and humans had in common, it was the need to find someone or something to blame. Wasn't that what Lucifer had done? Wasn't that what Naomi had said until just before the end? Even Metatron, so dedicated in showing how he controlled everything, even he would ultimately complain he was driven there.  
But he himself? He could not lie to himself like that. Wasn't that what he had learned from his friends? That will is always free, even when your choice is to follow orders. That there is always a choice. He always had a choice, and he had both been right and wrong, and if only consequences cancelled each other he could have taken it all in his stride. But he had seen the damage, and no measure of good could undo that in his conscience.  
"I did what I had to," he cringed again. "Or what I felt I had to do. We all did."  
Except he had so much power behind all of those choices. Most of the time, at least.  
Humans, on the other hand. His friends, so often his wards. So frail, so fleeting and yet so determined to take their actions onto themselves. It was not surprising his Father was so proud of His creation. Most of his brothers and sisters could not see that, or did not want to see that.  
«But you have been among them, Castiel,» someone said as he sat at his side. «You have been one of them. One would wonder if you can still be called an angel.»  
The rest of the park came into focus, clear as if it had always been there. And there was no mistaking the figure beside him.  
«Where do angels go when we die?» he asked.  
«Is that important right now?» the figure said, his hand diving into a greasy bag of chips. He seemed bored by the question.  
«I take it you are here to reap me.»  
«Did you die?» Death asked.  
«Several times, and you should know,» Castiel answered, not sure he himself remembered how it felt.  
«Does this feel like those other times?»  
«How would I know?»  
«You wouldn't,» Death said, crunching a chip slowly.  
They sat in silence for a while. Death did not seem in a hurry, which was news to Castiel.  
«Is it,» he asked in the end, «is it... over?»  
He tried to remember, he tried to focus on recent events but his memories were sketchy and blurry at best. Even the names seemed to escape him at moments. But he knew he had not died alone. The realization did little to comfort him. The implication crushed him.  
«You wonder if they felt pain,» Death said.  
«Even if they didn't, how much would one moment count against their whole lives?»  
Death nodded in understanding. The usual look of boredom on his face had given place to something Castiel would even define as gentle, some shade of kindness and compassion he had never seen on that visage.  
«So they are in Heaven at last,» the angel said. «Their own Heaven.»  
Death rummaged slowly in the bag of chips as Castiel's frown grew deeper. A part of him felt ashamed. A servant of God for millennia, and he had not even cared to ask how his final battle ended. And he could not force himself even now. All he could feel was yearning to be back with them, those humans who had changed him so much.  
«Are they safe?» Death said. «This is what you really want to ask.»  
Castiel looked warily at him.  
«There are... arrangements in place. It would be appropriate for two kids who were put into existence just so they sacrificed themselves, wouldn't it?»  
Kids. How right that was, Castiel thought. For all the years, for all their experiences, the metaphorical and terribly real hells they had been through, were they ever allowed to grow up whole? If the whole of humanity so often seemed lost children to him, what more could be expected of them?  
But there was something in Death's voice that got to him, deep down. Something in what he was saying. His mouth opened but nothing came out, too surprised of what he was thinking to say it aloud. No, he could not say it right then.  
«You are not here to reap me,» was the nearest he could come.  
«No, I'm not,» Death smiled.  
The full realization dawned on the angel's face.  
«You see that now, don't you?»  
Castiel shifted away from him on the bench with a shudder.  
«This is your prize, Castiel,» Death said. «Nobody else knows, and nobody else will. Though, if I can say, the clues were all there around you.»  
«The alpha and the omega,» Castiel said.  
«Indeed. If you think about it, I showed you the truth so many times,» Death continued with the hint of a smile. «But it's not your fault, not really. You were not meant to understand, then. Nobody is meant to, even if all are given a chance at guessing.  
«So yes, you only saw the omega but after all who else could be both? Who could ever be the real God at the end of all pantheons if God himself was still to be reaped? Who would in the end be the principle and ending of all? What piece of God's creation did humans and angels alike bring with them for every second of their existence, after all? Their fate, their capability for dying.»  
«And the reapers...»  
«Yes, that too. I admit I went a bit far with that, but it seems nobody picked up on it either.»  
«So, what now? Do I die? Do I go to Heaven? Do I go back into service?»  
Death seemed to think about it for a while.  
«What about being free? Did it even cross your mind?»  
Castiel did not answer. There were so many conflicting feelings in his head at that moment that he thought he might disintegrate if he even let the smallest thing through.  
«You could live as long as creations lasts, if you are careful, and watch this world you care so much about. You would still wear the form of an angel, but none of the strings. You fought for free will, you earned it fully. It was about time you could use it for real.»  
«Will I see my friends again?»  
Death shooked his head slowly.  
«I'm afraid not. They have been given a new chance, a real one. And they will be protected. They could reappear anywhere, at anytime. And they will not remember what they went through in this life.»  
«Nothing at all?» Castiel's eyes became hard with outrage. «There were precious things in those memories for them. Wouldn't they deserve to keep them?»  
«Lives they were given just so they could destroy themselves and be tools for the greater good. Which they became, even in the end.»  
«And for what? For losing knowledge of all the good they did? Forgetting friends and family, those who loved them until the end? Why? Is that what we call mercy?»  
«It's what we call healing,» Death said, unmoved.  
«Will you at least give them back those memories when their time comes again?»  
«No. They will live full lives, sheltered lives of quiet happiness, experience serenity such as few before them knew. And they will bring that serenity into eternity at the end of everything. I wonder if what you ask is for yourself rather than for them, Castiel.»  
Castiel held his head down.  
«How do I know they will be safe?»  
«You will not. That will be your last test of faith: you will never be allowed to bring any of their memories back. But I can tell you this,» Death said, and Castiel was surprised to feel his hand on his shoulder, not cold and killing but warm and reassuring. «There is peace now, because of what you all did. This peace will hold for a long time, and what evil may come back for one reason or the other... it will not be able to touch them.»  
If only Castiel could find it in himself to believe. Shame and pain filled him to the brim. This was what heartbreak felt like, he thought. Losing his brothers and sisters, losing his friends, all for the comfort of a Father who did not understand. Or was that only a weakness of him, his failure as an angel, like it had been so long ago?  
«You cannot conceive, nor can I, of the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God,» Death said.  
The angel looked at him, not understanding.  
«It's the quote you are looking for. They told me you got really good at this, so maybe I was expecting too much. It's ok, all things considered. Understandable and, as you will probably appreciate, very human.»  
Castiel remained silent.  
«So, Castiel,» he continued, «here is your choice. Will you serve, will you be free? Is there anything you can think of that is yours and yours alone, away from them?»  
Castiel answered.

It was a warm summer night, with just a hint of a breeze.  
The room was dark, except for a small reading light on one of the beds, where a mother was putting her child to sleep.  
«Tell me the story of the crying angel again, mom.»  
«It's late, my dear. You should be asleep already.»  
«But it's my favorite!» he complained louder, making himself small when she gestured him to be silent. «Just the end, mom?» he pleaded whispering. «Please?»  
His mother looked at him with tired but loving eyes, letting herself surrender to her son's request. She took a deep breath.  
«They say the angel cries in silence every night as he stands vigil over humanity. He cries for the brothers and sisters he lost, but most of all for the humans he loved so much. And some times, just some times, he will peek into a bedroom to be sure the child in there is safe. Because he always wonders if that child is one of his long lost friends.»  
«It's sad...» her son said, but she knew it was just part of how they retold the story every time. «But then... if I hear a noise tonight...»  
«Then be quiet and don't fear, because it means the angel has entered to see that everything is ok. That's the safest moment in all the night.»  
Her son made a big, tired, smile.  
«Thanks, mom.»  
«Sleep well, my dear,» she said as she kissed him on the forehead and turned off the light.  
As she left the room, the child fell right asleep.  
He did not wake when he kicked the covers away, and he did not wake something made him sneeze loudly.  
Then there was a brief sound, like a flutter.  
Someone was in the room. A trenchcoat wearing arm passed gently over the bed, and a careful hand pull the covers back on.  
The child moved in his sleep, his eyes trying to open back to reality.  
Footsteps came from the corridor. His mother was in the doorway, scanning the empty room slowly, like so many other times.  
«Dean? Sam?» she called in a hushed voice. «Are you all right?»  
She had almost turned her back when she heard something right out of the open window. She walked to it and closed it, slowly to avoid waking up her children.  
It was raining.


End file.
